


The Accidental Casanova

by caramelkisses (cinnamonbyuns)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonbyuns/pseuds/caramelkisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Potterlock AU. It's that time of year again, and, as usual, Sherlock hasn't been asked to the Yule ball, but when he makes a bet with Lestrade and Anderson, he makes it his goal to do just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Accidental Casanova

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my friend Emma for her birthday! I'm rubbish at writing fanfiction but at least know that I wrote Johnlock with you in mind ;)

"I bet no one will ask you to the Yule Ball this year. As per usual," Lestrade said over a letter he waved in front of Sherlock, its content clear as day with its pink hue and suffocating perfume scent. 

"Your point?" Sherlock snorted. "I'd rather not be getting those all the time." He pointed in disdain to the letter in Lestrade's hands, that made kissy noises every time it opened and closed. 

But Lestrade was barely paying any attention, only making eyes at the sender of the letter, one Molly Hooper. Her friends teased her while she blushed under Lestrade's gaze. Ugh. Sherlock leaned over to yank on his friend's red and yellow scarf. 

"Oy, let me have a bit of fun, will you?" Lestrade grumbled, readjusting his Gryffindor scarf. "Just because you're not having any doesn't mean the rest of us can't." Sherlock looked down the table where they sat for dinner in the Great Hall. He noticed a few other people getting letters of a similar manner. 

Sherlock crossed his arms. "You've barely even spoken with Molly," Sherlock pointed out simply. "Obviously she's only asking you out because she couldn't think of anyone better." 

At that, Lestrade turned back to look at him and nodded. "Maybe so," he acknowledged. "But at least I got asked. More than we can say for you." With a smirk at Sherlock, he turned to the boy beside him, who had just received the newest Nimbus broom. 

Sherlock sat back in his seat. Lestrade had a one up on Sherlock? He shook his head, watching the other boy laugh jovially with a friend, cheeks flushed pink from happiness. No, this simply would not do. "I'm sure I could. If I wanted to that is." 

Lestrade raised an eyebrow, and his friend outright laughed. 

"No one asked you, Anderson," Sherlock snapped. 

Anderson sobered up and leaned forward towards Sherlock, eyes alight. "Shall we make a bet of it then?" 

Lestrade clapped his hands, and Anderson grinned, clearly satisfied with his utterly brilliant suggestion that had managed to silence Sherlock. "No, no, Anderson, I'm not sure that's a task even Sherlock could not complete," he laughed, punching Sherlock in the shoulder.

Sherlock rubbed his injured shoulder and glowered at the two boys. "Challenge accepted," he barked, silencing their smug laughs.  
Lestrade and Anderson exchanged the looks of people that had gotten exactly what they wanted. "You have a week to get someone to ask you to the Yule Ball, Sherlock Holmes."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Sherlock looked up at the vaulting ceilings of the Great Hall, watching the owls dive through the open windows to drop packages and letters to the students below, his hands twitched every time a letter fell to someone near him. Lestrade was clearly noticing his frustration, for he was smirking at Sherlock over the care package he had gotten from home. "Care for a cookie, Sherlock," he offered innocently, batting his eyelashes. 

Sherlock was just about to make a snide remark, when a letter dive bombed his face from the claws of a clumsy ivory owl. He pealed the letter from the table, and tried to not to rip it open as Lestrade watched, eyebrows raised. My dear little Sherlock, Sherlock read to himself. He sat back and sighed. At least it wasn't a howler. 

Mycroft told me all about your hunt for a pretty girl to take to the ball. My boy is finally becoming a man! Remember, girls like a boy who takes care of himself and will take care of them. Good luck on your romancing, Sherlocky. Love, mummy. 

Sherlock crumpled the letter in his hand, and grit his teeth, making a mental note to get Mycroft back later. 

Lestrade seemed to decide that he wasn't going to tease Sherlock just yet, and continued rummaging through his care package, including the matching jumpers his mother had made for Lestrade and Molly. 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day, he saw Lestrade and Molly walking hand in hand, wearing hideous matching jumpers that had each other's name on them. Molly seemed to be tickled pink with her new sweater and even more so when Lestrade kissed her shyly on the cheek before making his way over to Sherlock where he sat in their Muggle Studies class.

"Oh, aren't they cute together," Anderson, sitting on the other side of Sherlock, cooed. "I wonder if you'll ever be like that with a girl." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned away from him. 

Lestrade set his stuff down on the desk next to Sherlock, nodding to Anderson, before doing a double take at Sherlock. "Are you wearing hair gel, Sherlock?" Lestrade reached out a hand that Sherlock whacked away. 

Sherlock ruffled his own hair and exhaled, blowing a black curl from his forehead. "No," he muttered. "

Lestrade raised his hands in defense. "Alright." 

Anderson leaned over to Sherlock from his other side and sniffed. "But certainly that's not cologne? Sherlock Holmes wearing cologne?" 

Sherlock crossed his arms, lowering himself into his seat, as if he could melt away from his friends snickers. "Shut up, Anderson."  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The day before the Yule Ball and Sherlock was still a single man. He wasn't really sure what it was really. He had tried to take care of himself, just like mother said. He had tried to tame his black curls, masked the scent of his experiments with some strong cologne that he had stolen from Andersen (although since it was Andersen, he really should have figured that wasn't going to get him anywhere with the ladies) and even told Jenna Lenz that he would 'take care of her' (though that had only gotten him a heel to the toe- but didn't girls want to be taken care of?). He was starting to wonder if maybe Lestrade and Andersen had paid off all the girls of Hogwarts to feign disinterest in him. Yes, hm, that must have been it. 

He could barely focus on his work for the day, thinking about the charm that was, for some unfathomable reason, unable to attract anyone, and his professor must have noticed too when she looked over at Sherlock's deflated Puffapod and sighed. "You seem a bit distracted today Sherlock, why don't you go work with John over there?" she suggested, pointing to a Hufflepuff boy. Sherlock loathed the idea of working with others, but simply satisfied himself with scowling at the teachers back before taking his poor pink pod over to the Hufflepuff and plopping it down beside him.

John didn't seem to notice Sherlock at first, focused on watering the plant, watching as it vibrated from side to side, like a dog wagging its tail. Sherlock cleared his throat. "You seem to be rather good with plants." The boy looked up then, finally noticing Sherlock.

John nodded shyly. "I like plants. I suppose they like me back then." As he spoke the words, shining beans began to bulge out from the pores of the pod. 

"Is that supposed to happen?" Sherlock inquired, pointing to John's Puffapod. 

John turned around quickly and clapped his hands. "Brilliant!" 

Sherlock reached over to poke the plant, before John grabbed his hand before he came into contact with it. Did Sherlock imagine John's cheeks becoming pink? "Careful," he said, dropping Sherlock's hand. "They change form when they come into contact with solid objects." Sherlock nodded, feeling as though he should have known that himself. 

For the rest of the class, Sherlock spent the rest of the time watching John fuss over his Puffapod, admonishing Sherlock for not taking better care of it. He sprayed it with water and coaxed it until it had become less balloon-like. 

"Thank you, I suppose I ought to say," Sherlock said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as John rummaged through his book bag. 

John gave him a small smile, before exiting their class.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sherlock was forced to go to the Yule ball as the ultimate fifth wheel to Lestrade, Anderson and their dull dates. After even all of Sherlock's best efforts, he was not, in the end, able to get asked by anyone to the dance. It didn't irk him so much as the smugness of his friends did. That was the deal. Either Sherlock get himself a dull date and dump her early or he could sit with Lestrade and Anderson's dull dates, sitting through their disgusting happiness. While Sherlock sat with the other singles in chairs that attempted to comfort him about his apparent loneliness, he kept taking peeks at the doors, where boys and girls clad in suits and sparkling dresses poured in, wondering if either of his so-called friends would take him down before he was able to make a run for it. 

He shifted in the dress shirt he was wearing, not even bothering to hide the rip in the sleeve it had gotten when Lestrade had forced it over his head. "You know it's perfectly ok that no one asked you to the ball, and I want you to know that your loneliness is perfectly normal and that you should share your feelings with others," the chair, in a monotonous female voice, soothed. 

"I assure you, I'm not lonely at all, thank you very much," he snapped at the chair underneath him. 

" I suppose you wouldn't want to dance then?" a voice asked from behind him. 

Sherlock turned around in his chair, only to see the Hufflepuff boy, John, fidgeting in front of him, smiling, then looking down. 

He was sure it was his own cheeks that were pink this time. All the other students had turned to gape at Sherlock, clearly shocked as to how he had just been to dance, and not them. If not only to flaunt it in their faces, he nodded and walked with John to the dance floor. 

They stood in front of each other, a bit unsure what to do at this point. "I'll warn you, I don't really dance," Sherlock warned. 

"Neither can I," John replied, smiling amiably, as they both swayed to the music, copying the dance style of everyone around them. 

"Thanks for saving me back there," Sherlock said in the silence. 

"I also saved your Puffapod." John grinned.

"Right, thanks for that." 

When Sherlock was the only one that had been kissed at the end of the night, Lestrade and Anderson agreed to take back anything they said about Sherlock's inability to woo, clapping him on the back. 

Anderson still looked dazed over the news. "Well, that's that, then. I guess Sherlock Holmes really can complete any task he's put up to." 

"And more," Lestrade added in a low voice, elbowing Sherlock in the stomach. 

"I suppose the sociopathy is just a charm for the ladies. Or, er, the men." Anderson shook his head. 

"For once, I'll have to agree with you there, Anderson."


End file.
